


Too Honest Gerard, Too Honest

by LovingLovelyLoners



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, Written 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovingLovelyLoners/pseuds/LovingLovelyLoners
Summary: He stared. He stared and saw Frank's face, and the way he smiled lit up Gerard's room better than sunshine ever could.It was beautiful. The way he smiled. The way they could talk until 6am and still not be bored of each other.It was beautiful. But it was so, so quiet.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

He stared. He stared and saw Frank's face, and the way he smiled lit up Gerard's room better than sunshine ever could. 

It was beautiful. The way he smiled. The way they could talk until 6am and still not be bored of each other. 

It was beautiful. But it was so, so quiet. 

It was quiet because it existed in only certain spaces. It was quiet because it lived in 2 word texts and 5 hour calls and 10 second smiles. The happiness that Gerard felt, visiting through his cheekbones when he was smiling so hard that it fucking hurt, that was quiet. Even though it felt like screaming happy choruses from his insides out. 

He kept smiling, when it hurt. Gerard kept smiling because when Frank was in front of him, and his face hurt this good, Gerard could ignore everything else constantly pounding around him and at him and inside of him.

He hated how quiet it all was, when it seemed so loud. But it wasn't loud. Reality was loud.

Reality felt like bad beats being blasted into his ears with no reprieve. So loud he was unable to hear himself speak, or think, but no real music playing. Reality was responsibilities he couldn't handle and angry parents and cringey moments that everyone has, but not everyone thinks about until there's blood on the bed and darker thoughts in his head. Reality was every single time he had told himself, you're a failure, you'll never be anything, I wish I could die, die, die.

They were Facts that Gerard had no choice but to face. Everything between Gerard and Frank was a whisper compared to the bloodcurdling scream of Reality. 

But, luckily, there were things that… numbed the noise. Made it bearable. Made the scratches on his arms not sting as much, and the Reality of his life seem farther away. 

One of these things was Frank.

Talking to Frank was like giving happiness a chance. Because Gerard couldn't do that in Reality. But when Gerard talked to Frank, it was like he was in another world, another mind, where he was free to let himself smile and laugh and treat screams in his head like shouts of laughter. Whenever he thought about Frank, his heart would clench in just a certain way that put his mind at relative peace, if only for the moment. 

But thinking about Frank was not always helpful. In fact, remembering that he couldn't couldn't couldn't he's not mine he's got 1000 other problems he doesn't need my lovesick ass and it's not his fault he's not attracted to me its MY fault for liking him even though I can't control it was something that could make the noise louder, more unbearable. 

So Gerard often looked for other ways to numb the sound.

To be blunt, his two favorite options were the bottle and the knife. 

It wasn't fun, but it worked. And when he was laughing at words that previously ripped tears out of his eyes, he thought it was worth it. He thought it was worth it when he admitted to his own slow self-destruction when Frank was gone, when he admitted he was in love with Frank, and he thought it pretty much every night since then, when Frank hung up on him and he was left alone to crash back down to Reality.

For a while, it worked. 

The cycle of depression-Frank-numbness-repeat became his life, and it was working, because Gerard wasn't dead yet.

Of course, the cycle varied. But it was always balanced. Some days, something random would cause a spike of happiness or hope in Gerard, but that made the depression later become worse. Sometimes he would talk to Frank for longer than usual, and the numbness would not last as long. Sometimes he wouldn't talk to Frank at all, and the numbness felt like it lasted for years. 

The cycle did work, but even the best laid plans can be interrupted.

And this was the worse interruption that had happened yet. 

Because Gerard knew how to live with a day long disappearance by Frank. He knew how to deal with even longer disappearances, actually. But the last few days had been Hell for Gerard. Because the Frank he spoke with was barely there. Sure, Gerard could see him, but Frank's mind was elsewhere, on other trivial things. Like other people. And sure, maybe they weren't trivial to Frank, but with Gerard's life on the line, they were fucking trivial, okay?

Gerard often forgot to remember that Frank was also, a real person. And when Gerard was able to remember that Frank was a real person with an entire life and other people that he knew and loved, he realized how selfish he himself was.

Which is why Gerard never told Frank about when he had to numb his feelings outside of their conversations, and he never told Frank how deeply in love he was. 

Which was a whole different problem and source of confusion for Gerard. Because never once had Gerard wanted to fuck Frank. To be with him sexually. But Gerard was sure that he was in love with Frank. The way he loved Frank, the effect Frank had on him was intense, it was deep and wide, and Gerard listed Frank as one of the very few reasons he wasn't dead yet. 

Gerard felt completely comfortable with Frank. Gerard knew he could tell Frank anything, but he refused to share these things with him. Because saying this, admitting to his own selfishness and devotion would do nothing but hurt Frank, and Frank didn't need that from Gerard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you," he whispers to the screen. 
> 
> "I love you," he whispers, because no one can hear.
> 
> "I love you," he whispers, because he wishes.
> 
> "I love you," he whispers, because he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is less of a story and more of a rant. You like angsty rants from 2015? I'm ya girl.

"I love you," he whispers to the screen.

"I love you," he whispers, because no one can hear.

"I love you," he whispers, because he wishes.

"I love you," he whispers, because he can't.

A message comes in. A sad smile appears on his own face.

_I would talk to you forever._ He thinks. _I'm just too busy feeling sorry for myself._

_He responded quickly. I love him._

_Shit shit shit. I can't type so many messages at one. He'll know. He'll know I'm desperate._

_I love him._

_I love him so much._

He knows. He knows he can't make the other boy love him. Goddamn hetrosexuality.

Theres no way, but he can always wish.

On the other hand, the other boy hasn't responded yet. And the other boy knows that there are scars on his hands, but the other boy doesn't know that there are very fresh cuts on his wrist. And the other boy doesn't know that they could've been stopped if someone had just been there. If the other boy had been there.

He's responded.

_I love him._

_I respond too fast, I'm desperate._

_I sound so dumb._

_He's so cute._

_I'm so proud of him._

The other boy doesn't know about the impromptu screwdriver, (vanilla extract has 41% alcohol content, just like vodka,) that sat in a seltzer bottle in the cupboard, that he had drained before talking to the other boy for the first time in weeks. Because the anxious stomach ache was less bearable than the inevitable too-much-alcohol stomach ache.

_I love him so much._

He looks up at the other boys profile picture.

_He's so beautiful. Could get anyone he wanted. Meaning, not me. In the 'friend' category I might be someone, but in the 'possible girlfriend' category. Well, I'm not even an option._

_This is what I get. This is what I get for letting him be the exception. Not that I have a choice._

_Respond dammit._

_Please._

He hates looking at the timestamps of his messages. His own numbers are all at the same time. The other boy's are so far apart. The other boy actually has a life outside of pining for a guy he'll never have.

_Why do you have to be so damn straight?_

_Why am I just this little bit gay?_

_I missed you. But it still feels like you're not even here._

_Oh the irony. oh the IRONY._

_Oh man. Oh man._

_I sounded dumb. I wish I could text you. Phone's are so much more personal._

_I'm sorry if I make it awkward. It's just hard, you know? I can't say what I'm really thinking. I can't._

_A lot of times I think about your voice when you're sad. It hurts my heart, to see you like that._

_I love you._

This is what life is like. It's not a story, it doesn't move. Well, life moves, but somethings stay stagnant.

_I miss you. Even if it was only 7 days, I miss it like it were my whole life. I miss being with you, and always being aware of every single part of us that was touching at the current moment. I miss our inside jokes. I miss falling asleep cuddling with you. I haven't done that with anyone else in years. I miss that one time you were practically on top of me and when I said something, you thought I was telling you to get off. I wasn't. I wanted you to come closer._

He responds. He shouldn't neglect the other boy of what he needs. The other boy needs friendship. He needs companionship.

_I hate the thought of you being sad over me. I hate the thought of you being sad. Ever. I'm sorry I sort of inadvertently caused that anxiety attack you had once. And I'm sorry for every time I've made you uncomfortable, from the insinuations that we should spend our life artistically together to the abundance of messages you never asked for when you've already got so much to deal with._

_I would spend the rest of my life with you._

_You wouldn't, and shouldn't spend the rest of your life with me._

The ball is in the other boy's court. He responded. Th other boy hasn't been saying much to respond to, though. He'll wait.

Not because he wants the other boy to suffer, no quite the opposite. He wants to suffer himself so he can make himself realize everything he wants is impossible.

He wishes he had more of that alcohol.

_Where are you?_ He thinks. And he knows it's not as easy as it sounds.

But the other boy has not texted him in, almost 12 hours now..

And sure, he knows he's clingy.

Which is why he thinks he should wait for the other boy make the first move.

But, what if he never does?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2015 to get through some emotions. Hopefully you enjoyed? Sorry, I know it's not much of a story. :)


End file.
